In the circle of his arms
by rubberglue
Summary: Merlin stays the night for the first time and Mithian marvels at how far they have come.


As she lies in the circle of his arms, she wonders what she is doing but his breath ghosts over her cheek, his lips brush against her ear and she stops thinking. It feels good. In a life confined by duty and responsibility, he is her one escape. In his arms, she's a woman and not a princess. It's liberating. As the morning sun streams in from her window, turning her face, she presses a kiss against his temple and is rewarded with a murmur and a brief smile.

* * *

It started out completely innocently, at least on her part. He claimed his too but it was him who sought her out, offering her comfort as well as appreciation. She showed great bravery in the face of Morgana's machinations, he said. Platitudes she thought at first, used to them being dished out to her regularly by various members of the court. But his eyes were sincere and his hand was warm and kind on her shoulder.

The kiss was both a surprise and a long time coming.

* * *

His leg shifts and he settles more comfortably against her body. He is warm, but he is always warm. The arm that is draped around her waist tightens. She can already feel the beginnings of his arousal. She presses back against him, feeling her own arousal building. She wonders if he has awakened.

* * *

She was in Camelot for Arthur and Gwen's wedding anniversary the next time they happen. It was a lavish affair, Arthur's gift to Gwen. As expected, Merlin was kept busy by Arthur, the smooth running of the party on his shoulders. So she spent most of the time in the company of the other nobles. Lord Fredrick took a fancy to her and she showed him polite regard, her eyes seeking out Merlin, both consciously and unconsciously. It is only after the whole wedding feast was over that she finally had Merlin's hands spanning her waist, his lips fierce against hers, his hips pressing her into the wall of the alcove.

This time, his fingers dip between her legs, tentatively stroking her until she could bear it no longer and told him, whether to stop or hurry, she wasn't sure. She came with a shudder. He didn't but he kisses her gently before he leaves. Sighing, she leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath and slow the pounding of her heart.

* * *

When she feels him press kisses to the back of her neck, she knows he is awake. The hand that is lying on her stomach, over her slip, starts to move. She feels, more than hears, him sigh her name, and her heart swells with affection. Immediately, she pushes it away. He's a tender, considerate lover and their brief moments together are perfect little bubbles she never wants popped. There is no point in dreaming of more.

His hand is under her slip, tracing patterns as it slowly moves up to her breast. She squirms and sighs, finally turning so she faces him, her eyes looking into his hooded ones. A sleepy smile breaks across his face and he leans forward to kiss her. She lifts her hand to caress his face and he catches it, pressing her palm against his cheek.

"Good morning," his voice is rough with sleep, his lips moving against hers.

* * *

It was a few months after Arthur and Gwen's wedding anniversary before they were together again. He made a trip to Nemeth to see her, after they say what she thinks are their last goodbyes. A slight detour, he said, smiling although she can see the nervousness in his eyes, as if he thought she might not welcome him. Within minutes of his arrival, they were hidden in her chambers, clothes on the floor as he greedily tasted her. He left her chambers and Nemeth before nightfall but not before they share supper, a moment she pretended then wasn't stolen but part of her regular day.

She meant to tell him goodbye but whispered come back soon as she kissed him.

* * *

Her own lips curve into a smile and she returns his greeting, brushing her lips against the stubble on his chin. Her hands slide down his bare chest until they reach the band of his trousers. He shivers and groans. Feeling bold, she pushes him onto his back and straddles him. There is surprise in his eyes - she isn't usually so forward - but it is quickly replaced by desire and amusement. His hands span her waist, holding her firm and he grins. Bending down, she kisses him while he eases her slip up so he can run his hands over her back. Every touch leaves a trail of fire and she moans into his mouth. Her fingers undo his trousers while his hands push up her slip. It isn't long till she's lying on top of him, their naked bodies pressed tightly together.

* * *

Their affair continued after that night in Nemeth. It was always Merlin who came, late in the night, to Nemeth, to her. For his birthday, she cooked up a reason and rode for Camelot. Arthur and Gwen say nothing when she said she just needed a break from the politics of Nemeth but Gwen looked knowingly at her. Merlin stood at the back of the throne room, a slight smile playing on his face although he kept his eyes on the floor. They meet in the forest, a picnic already laid out by her. He held her as they ate and talked and later, stomachs sated, they made love leisurely and with so much tenderness that she thinks she might cry. But a princess never cries and even though he makes her feel like a woman, it's the princess who manages her emotions.

Propriety meant he disappeared from her guest chambers in the early hours of the morning.

* * *

Slowly, she sinks onto him, enjoying the intimacy this brings. They have never spent the night together before this. In fact, Merlin was packing to leave again last night when she stopped him.

"Stay," she had said impulsively. And he had given her that familiar, bright smile, the same one he had given her when she told him she was happy he took that detour and arrived at Nemeth, the same one he had given her when she turned up at Camelot. He crawled under the lush blankets with her and held her tight in his embrace until they fell asleep.

He moves his hips, urging her to move in rhythm and she does. His hands are on her breasts, kneading and stroking, his eyes locked with hers. There's a message in them. It's the same one that's always there. She looks away, down at where their bodies are joined.

He curls a lock of her hair around his finger. She's damp with sweat and sex but she feels wonderful, her face is buried in his chest, his arm is loosely slung round her waist.

"I love you," he says into her hair and for a moment, she thinks it's just her imagination, her locked up dreams that have escaped. But when she looks up, she sees love blazing from his eyes and an uncertain half-smile on his face.

She's a princess. He's not a prince. Her father, while approving of Gwen, frowns on marriages without political gain. Merlin's finger traces a line down her arm. "I just wanted you to know," he says. "You don't -"

"I love you too," she replies and before she can finish, he is kissing her hard. It's scary and freeing all at once. But maybe her happiness isn't dependent on snatched moments in secret anymore. Linking her hand with his, she smiles up to him. "Stay for breakfast."

As she lies in the circle of his arms, she wonders what she is doing but she knows it feels right and maybe that's all it needs to be.


End file.
